


In The Desert

by transfixme_quite



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: F/M, Het, POV First Person, POV Third Person
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-27
Updated: 2013-09-27
Packaged: 2017-12-27 18:22:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/982133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/transfixme_quite/pseuds/transfixme_quite
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The night Sherlock rescued Irene, and what transpired once they reached the safe house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In The Desert

**Author's Note:**

> This switches from first to third person several times. It wasn't what I intended, but Sherlock wanted to have his say, so I let him.

> _She had accepted her fate. She was to die in dignity, even with the stigma of all she'd done and all she knew hanging over her like the blade about to sever her most important weapon. Even unarmed, she would still have been the superior fighter. It is not defeat nor is it disgrace to accept your fate when handed to you. Even in death, she had won. She had won because death was their last recourse to stop her. And after death, the memory of the power she held in her hands would stay with them forever and haunt them. One single tear. It was not fear. It was not regret. It was loneliness. Wielding so much power often leaves a person isolated, and forcing allies is only a ticking time bomb. She knew eventually the page would turn and her story would end. She didn't know that today was not that day._

\---

Irene walked straight into the shower room without saying a word. Sherlock shut the door and followed her with his eyes as he removed his robes. They hadn't spoken a word to each other. Words were useless in the moment. Sherlock had been arranging travel to America for Irene under a new name during his flight, and he was now just grateful those travel plans weren't made in vain. He sighed and bolted the door. Irene stepped under the running water, still fully clothed, and sat on the shower floor.

\---

> _We ran. We ran as fast as we could. I took her hand and we never looked back. We avoided being followed, but well, dead bodies can't follow a trail. They were certainly going to be looking for her, but it would be days before they could figure out where to begin, and by then, she'd be in another country. As it was, we sped down the desert roads to another city, headed toward the hotel waiting for us. Vehicle unmarked, stolen ID card, ages away from the crossroads between life and death. She sat in the passenger's seat, arms folded, head down, breathing slow and heavy. She may have been asleep, or wanting me to think that she was, but the exhaustion was real. The relief was real._

\---

Sherlock walked into the bathroom and watched Irene as she and her robes became soaked with water. She looked up at him and laughed. He could tell she was crying. She'd waited until she got in the shower in order to hide her tears.

"You might want to get out of your clothes before showering." Sherlock broke the silence for the first time in hours.

"I want to get the sand out of my clothes. You don't think I'm going to get rid of them, do you?" She tried to mask the warble in her voice with an air of smugness. Sherlock stepped into the shower with her, lowering himself to his knees in front of her. Irene lengthened her legs and Sherlock moved forward, with his legs on either side of her. Slowly, he removed her head wrap, and tossed it just outside the tub, allowing the water to flow over her hair properly. He ran his fingers through her hair to better soak it, and she closed her eyes and exhaled.

"After everything?" She whispered. "Why?"

"You don't deserve death."

"How is that up to you to decide?"

"Well, I've decided, haven't I?"

Irene opened her eyes, and Sherlock stared into her, watching, reading. She moved forward and kissed him deeply, her fingers grasping his neck as the water ran over them both. He returned the kiss, much to her surprise, and she began to unbutton his shirt, willing to speed along the process in order not to ruin it. Sherlock tugged at her robes, and rose up, bringing her with him. He unwrapped her, unsure of where the cloth began or ended, but somehow managed to remove it. He stared, almost in shock, at her naked body, covered in bruises.

"This is all they gave you? They were to execute you like this?" Sherlock said in disbelief. Irene did not answer him, and instead pressed her body against his, gripping his hair too tight, and kissing him again. For a moment, the kiss was intense, passionate, but then Sherlock pulled away. He grabbed Irene by the hips delicately, and spun her around. "Hands on the wall." He said. She looked over her shoulder, a mischevious grin on her face, then did as she was told.

"I've been naughty." Irene said. Her conditioned response stopped short, however, when she felt a soapy rag on her back. Sherlock washed her back in gentle circles, and Irene couldn't stop the extra few tears that escaped her eyes as she lowered her head. He moved over her shoulders, her arms, and down her legs to her feet. Carefully, he made his way back up her body, and positioned her under the stream to get rinsed. He turned her back around to face him. She said nothing as she removed the rest of his clothes, then sank to her knees. Sherlock grabbed her by an elbow and raised her back to her feet. "But I want to." She said. 

Sherlock stepped out of his trousers and pants, and tossed them on the floor outside the tub, with her robes and the rest of his clothing. He moved closer to Irene until her back was against the wall. Her eyes widened as she looked deep into his, curiously. Sherlock placed his hands on her neck, then slowly, he slid his right hand down over her chest, capturing a nipple shortly, and past her stomach. He let his thumb glide over her clit, and slid a finger inside of her. He never took his eyes away from hers, and he followed her reactions closely, as he fingered her.

"Sh-" Irene sputtered, unsure if she meant to say Sherlock's name or spit out an expletive. Sherlock pressed his lips to Irene's neck and bit gently, shifting her right foot with his left for better access, sliding another finger in, and pushing deeper.

\---

> _I watched her croon and sigh as I manipulated my fingers just so, until she came apart at my hand. I never thought I'd enjoy something so much. It wasn't to do with the sexual nature of the situation, but allowing myself to help her come undone, to release all her tension and stress, letting her approach the realization that she would truly be safe now._
> 
> _No, it wasn't about the sex at all. I felt that connection rise between us again; it felt like the moment our wits had matched all those months ago, before she utterly burned me. I could forgive her that, now, for two reasons. It had never been personal, and in the end I had bested her._
> 
> _The game between us was an intense one, but one I'll never let go rememberance of. This was the last time I would see her, hear from her, and that was of no concern to me. My concern was her safety and her comfort. I understand being in a position where you have to protect yourself by any means, and while she had the choice to not take that road, what a dull life she might have led if she hadn't. I admire her sense of adventure and curiosity, and no matter what she knew or had on anyone, she deserved life and all of it's thrills._
> 
> _I made my way out of the hotel before she awoke, leaving detailed instructions for her travels and her new life. I'm almost sure she'll continue her trysts in America. As well she should. She can't turn away now that she's dined at the best tables._
> 
> _She did not fail before me, and she will not after. While she may have allowed sentiment to break her slightly in my regard, I realize now it was never a sign of weakness. It was a strength I'm not sure I'll ever be capable of._


End file.
